


That's My Friend

by maxbegone



Series: Schitt's Creek Tumblr Prompts [16]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Best Friends, Coda, Comfort, Episode: s05e08 The Hospies, Fluff, Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Platonic Soulmates, Prompt Fill, david rose is a good friend, david still doesn't know who gwen is k bye, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxbegone/pseuds/maxbegone
Summary: Smudges of dark makeup sit caked under Stevie’s already dark eyes and the cuffs of her flannel are balled-up in her fists. She swipes at her nose.“I brought wine,” David announces, setting the bottle next to the empty bowl. He eyes the half-empty blend she already had uncorked. He gestures to it. “But I see that might not have been necessary.”--43: A kiss pressed to the top of the head.
Relationships: Stevie Budd & David Rose
Series: Schitt's Creek Tumblr Prompts [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806070
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80





	That's My Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxtails](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxtails/gifts).



> Written for [@patrickbrewsky](patrickbrewsky.tumblr.com) on tumblr (for our platonic soulmates).

"This is the second time a member of the Rose family has come to my apartment today.”

David bites back a grin, his knees bent. “Hello to you, too.”

Stevie steps aside to let David in. He drops his bag in the foyer and looks around.

Her apartment is a little dreary - it’s always a little dreary, David notes, but it’s very much _Stevie_ and he loves it and that Sarah Maclachlan poster regardless.

It smells like vanilla, too, and David thinks he’ll have to convince her to get something a little more atmospheric, something that will bring a little dimension into her home.

He makes a mental note to set aside a few of the soy candles at the store for her.

There’s a suitcase propped-up by her closet, slightly caved-in from its lack of contents and there’s an empty cereal bowl sitting on her countertop, the spoon still in it. 

Smudges of dark makeup sit caked under Stevie’s already dark eyes and the cuffs of her flannel are balled-up in her fists. She swipes at her nose.

“I brought wine,” David announces, setting the bottle next to the empty bowl. He eyes the half-empty blend she already had uncorked. He gestures to it. “But I see that might not have been necessary.”

“It’s from your mom.” Stevie gives him a weak smile as she flops into a chair, her dark hair falling in front of her face.

David sighs. “You okay?”

“Did your dad put you up to this?” She murmurs, voice thick. She doesn’t meet his gaze.

“No.” David leans his elbows into the counter, adding much softer, “But...he did tell me about Emir. Coming here was my decision.”

Stevie’s posture visibly slumps in response. She remains quiet.

David doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. Instead, he pulls up his sleeves and begins cleaning up her dirty bowl. He sets out a towel under her drying rack, wiping the excess soap from the base of the sink. 

Once that’s accounted for, he tops of Stevie’s wineglass with the stuff he brought - making a very prominent point to pour out the faint remnants of the cheaper bottle down the drain and sets it off to the side for recycling. It was less than a proper glass, really.

He hears a light huff of a laugh from behind him, causing him to smile.

With his own glass in-hand, he sets Stevie’s down, taking the empty chair across from her. Even still, nothing is said as she stares at the dark liquid in her glass. It’s just the two of them sitting in somewhat comfortable silence, taking sips of their drinks until David decides to get up and pour them each another.

“Where’s Patrick tonight?”

David nearly snorts. “He’s sulking at his apartment over Romanian marble and the fact that Ronnie officially hates him.”

Stevie gives him an odd look. “What does that even mean?”

He shakes his head, swilling his wine. “Nothing. I’ll explain tomorrow.”

Stevie just mutters a dejected, “Sure,” and picks at a loose string hanging from her sleeve. 

The apartment goes silent again - it’s a trend tonight, and David thinks he’s okay with that - the only real sound coming from the buzzing of Stevie’s old refrigerator every so often.

“Fuck him,” David states. It’s sharp, it’s a little biting, and Stevie pushes her brows together when he says it.

“I mean, you already _did,”_ he adds, earning another half-hearted laugh from his best friend. “But fuck him.”

She sniffs, eyes trained on her hands in her lap. “Thanks,” she whispers.

“I’m not going to say a bunch of fluff to try and make you feel better because, let’s face it, that won’t help.” She nods and David continues. “So, if you’re fine with it...I’ll stay over tonight, try and distract you or something.”

She scrubs at her cheeks, disrupting tear-stains and still nodding. “Thanks, David.”

His smile grows just a bit wider, the dull knot of an ache in his chest starting to unravel itself. 

He grabs his bag then, tossing it onto the unmade bed. David begins taking out various creams and cleansers, a jar containing the under-eye serum he loves so much, and a bottle of lavender toner.

“Go wash up,” he nods toward the bathroom.

Stevie stands wordlessly, gathering everything up in her arms. When the door shuts behind her and he hears the water running, David begins tidying up again.

He starts with the bed; straightening out the fitted sheet and fixing the comforter. He fluffs the pillows and drapes a chunky knitted blanket that’s been thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch onto the bed.

It’s right about then that David spots the script for _Cabaret._ It’s written in big, bold letters across the front. His mother _had_ mentioned in passing something about it and a “courageous and sturdy woman like our dear Stevie.”

His heart squeezes in his chest at image of his mother handing the script to over to Stevie. It makes sense why she came here now.

He’ll ask her about it tomorrow. For now, he places it on the kitchen table. 

Save for the very dregs, their glasses from earlier are empty, so David takes to delicately washing them out and setting them upside-down on a dishtowel. He makes two cups of tea, steaming and ready by the time the bathroom door swings open again.

Stevie comes out fresh-faced and dewy, her flannel now bunched-up in one hand. 

She hitches a thumb over her shoulder. “I left everything on the counter if you want to use it.” 

David hands her a mug. “In a second. But, uh...” He picks up a tattered novel from where it sits on her nightstand, smirking. “What’s this?”

Stevie rips it from his hold, swiftly shoving it into a drawer and hip-checking it closed. “It’s a book.”

 _“A Scandalous Kiss,”_ David recites coyly, “Sounds hot. Where the hell did you pick that up? A pharmacy?”

“I’m borrowing it from Gwen. She wouldn’t stop raving about it when I was in the café last week, so I’m borrowing it from her.”

David blinks. “Yeah, I don’t know who that is.”

“Gwen,” Stevie repeats. “Bob’s wife.” When David shrugs at her, she tosses her flannel onto a chair.

“I’ll be out in a few,” he says gently, offering a much softer smile to which she returns. 

“You’ll be out in more than ‘a few,” she calls through the door, and despite the congestion in her voice, her wit is still there.

The seals from the unopened products he’d handed her are still scattered around the sink, so he dumps those into the trash before moving on.

David hastens his way through his nighttime routine, knocking off about half the time it normally takes so he can get back to Stevie.

Abbreviated version done, David lines the products up in Stevie’s mirror-slash-medicine cabinet. He thinks about organizing them by step for her, maybe going through it all with her tomorrow morning if she’s up for it, but brushes off the notion.

Stevie’s curled-up on her side atop the covers, her back to him, when David emerges. He takes this opportunity to slip into a pair of sleep pants and a tee, tucking his things away by the foot of her bed.

As David comes around to her side of the bed, Stevie’s shoulders are shaking ever so slightly.

He lets out a quiet sigh, sitting carefully by the bend of her legs. Stevie has her arms wrapped tight around her pillow, her eyes distant and puffy from what David can make out from his angle.

“Hey.” He gives her thigh a firm rub. She only sniffs in response.

He lets out a breathy _“Oh”_ sound and stands again, repositioning Stevie so she’s under the covers and tucked-in tightly. He lays the knitted blanket over her shoulders and, with a tentative hand, brushes the hair from her face.

Stevie turns just enough to look at him, her eyes red-rimmed. 

David offers a half-frown, one that says, “I’m here for you, I care about you, I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s the truth.

“Sorry,” he hears her say once the lights are off in the main part of the apartment and the only source is coming from the lamp on her nightstand.

He’s laying with her now, matching her position. She looks so small in her huddled form, and David wants nothing more than to hold his best friend close.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

There’s a long pause before Stevie says anything again. “I feel really, _really_ stupid.”

He lets a beat pass. “You’re not, though.”

She hums. “It just sucks.” Stevie heaves a deep breath, a gurgling sound coming from somewhere deep in her throat. “I thought that it was actually going somewhere...and it wasn’t.”

“Not that it’ll really make you feel any better,” David starts carefully, repositioning himself on the pillow, “but I’ve been in that boat countless times. You get over it. But it does really suck. And it really fucking hurts sometimes, too.”

Stevie’s lips quirk downward on one side. She pulls a hand out from where it’s still wrapped around the pillow to rub at her eyes.

“You really didn’t have to come tonight.” She says it so softly, as if she’s trying to convince herself that David coming here was nothing big.

But he sees right through it. “I wanted to.”

He reaches over to shut the light, a metallic _click_ echoing out. When he turns back to face Stevie, she’s staring at him sadly, eyes still glazed-over.

David lifts up an arm as incentive for Stevie to wriggle over to him. She sets her head on his chest, nuzzling as a hiccuping sob releases itself. David links his arms at her back. 

She settles sometime after that, going deathly still, and there’s something about the way she lays there that lets David know she’s knocked-out cold for the rest of the evening.

She’ll be emotionally hungover in the morning, he knows that for a fact - he’s been there himself, Stevie’s even seen it.

But for now, she’ll sleep like a rock. A small, dark-haired rock shaped like his best friend whom he loves. He really, _really_ loves. He hopes that’s enough for her.

David presses a kiss into the crown of her head, one hand coming up to brush through her hair. He breathes in the familiar scent of Stevie’s shampoo, it comforts him. 

David kisses her head again, tucks her impossibly close and drifts off as her breath tickles his neck. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me [@maxbegone](maxbegone.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


End file.
